


A Mother's Hopes

by octopus_fool



Series: Khazâd October [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Drama, Family, Gen, Khazâd October, Kili's runestone, Past Character Death, background Dís/Víli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 19:17:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4932025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The relationship between Dís and her mother becomes rather strained when Dís tells her about her plans to go travelling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mother's Hopes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Khazâd October](http://a-grump-of-dwarves.tumblr.com/post/128714611270/khaz%C3%A2d-october), Day 3 – Dís.

Dís took a deep breath as she opened the door to her mother’s workshop. She knew that her mother would not be happy about her plans, but she had to tell her sooner or later and while Thorin had offered to tell her, Dís was of the line of Durin and would not shirk back from unpleasant situations.

The door creaked as Dís opened it. Her mother looked up and her careworn face cracked into a smile.

“Dís. Look at this one.” Hulda held up a small, pink piece of stone. “This thulite is perfect for the amulet Bifvari wants to give to his Jórvór to help her overcome her shyness. You could forge a chain for it while Thorin is away working this summer. Gold would be best of course, but copper will have to do, I’m afraid.”

Dís swallowed. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to, Amad.”

Hulda narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, you won’t be able to?”

“I am taking my cart into Eriador, and perhaps also into Rohan. We need the money, Amad, and I am old enough to go smithing on my own.”

All colour fled from Hulda’s face. “You will not.”

“I am sorry, Amad, but it is necessary. We are always short on money and that is not even counting the money we need to build this settlement and support unfortunate dwarves who cannot earn enough to live. If we have a single bad harvest or any kind of emergency occurs that takes up unexpected money, we will truly be struggling to get by. And you know Víli and I want to get married and start a family. We will need more security to do that. So yes, I have to go, although I know you do not like it.”

“You cannot start a family if you are dead! Why does everyone choose to go away and die?”

Dís closed her eyes for a moment. She had feared her mother would argue this way, but she had hoped she wouldn’t.

“I will not die. Eriador and Rohan are no more dangerous than this area of the Blue Mountains is. Besides, Thorin goes every year and he is alive and well.” Dís preferred not to mention the stories Thorin had told her of all the close calls he had had as a travelling smith.

Hulda tugged on her beard and Dís feared she might start tearing it. She had done so the first summer Thorin had left, wearing full mourning garb as well. “It is only a matter of time! He will be killed and now, you insist on going away to die too! Everyone leaves and dies. You do not know how it was when my boy died and the king. Thráin too.”

Dís remembered well enough. The disbelief, the pain, the desperation. The nights filled with crying and the gnawing hunger, once again. But she chose not to mention that.  
“We need to make sure that will not happen again. And to do that, we need to make this settlement sturdy and safe, which we cannot do without money. I am sorry, Amad, but I will not change my mind on this. I will leave in late spring when Thorin does and return when the leaves start falling.”

Dís squared her shoulders and left the workshop, determined not to let her mother persuade her to abandon her plans.

 

Hulda did not tear her hair, don her grey clothes or hang a cloth over the one mirror they owned. She did not go into mourning like Dís had feared she might. Instead, she stopped speaking to Dís.

Dís went about her days as usual, performing her tasks in the household, working in the forge, occasionally drinking an ale with Víli in the tavern and helping her mother in her workshop. She helped Hulda polish the stones, drilled holes in the ones that would become parts of necklaces or bracelets and fit chains to them.

All the while, Hulda remained silent and ignored Dís as well as she could, while she carved her amulets, talismans and pendants, occasionally whispering the old words over them.

“I wish my Jóvór were interested in helping me make toys,” Bifvari said when he came to discuss the details of the amulet. “Of course, her interest in farming is good in these times, but it would be nice to be able to share the details of my work with her. You are lucky your daughter has similar interests to you.”

“I have no daughter,” Hulda replied, setting down her chisel with rather more force than necessary.

Bifvari blinked and changed the subject, while Dís tried to act as though nothing out of ordinary was happening. Although she had feared her mother putting on mourning garb for her, having her pretend she did not exist was even worse.

 

Dís breathed in the fresh forest air. It had been crisp and cold when she left that morning, but by the time she stopped her cart and sat down on a stone by the road to eat her lunch, the sun had warmed the air enough to announce that summer was just around the corner.

Although Dís’s departure had been overshadowed by the fact that Hulda had not seen her daughter off, it was hard not to be cheered by the beautiful day. And despite the dangers that lay ahead, Dís could not help but enjoy the freedom that came with her journey.

Hungry from walking, Dís tore off a chunk of cheese and bit into her bread. She could almost feel her teeth creak when they hit something hard. Cursing, Dís took a look at the hard object in her bread, pulling it out and rubbing off the remaining crumbs.

It was a smooth piece of labradorite, just the right size to fit into her hand.

She knew that stone. Her mother had carried it all the way from Erebor and had held on to it through all their hardships, saying she was saving it for a special talisman. Dís could feel the power of the stone enhanced by the countless rituals her mother must have performed to embed their meaning. Six runes were carved into it with great care, spelling out the message Dís could already feel singing to her from the stone. Return to me.

Dís ran her fingers across the smooth stone.

“I will, Amad. I promise.”


End file.
